


The Art of Relaxation

by Torpi (orphan_account)



Category: Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Cuddling, EM play, Kissing, M/M, Making Out
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-06
Packaged: 2017-11-23 07:33:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/619637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Torpi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Perceptor makes a deal with Drift to learn how to relax without highgrade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ironic to post a fic about drinking too much on a day where statics show that most adults are nursing a hangover?
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: cuddling, kissing and a weak attempt at a plot to make this an actual story.

It wasn’t often he got like this but, every now and then, it felt good to just let go.

And he had really let go this time.

His intakes were heaving as he wandered through the streets, wobbling slightly on his peds as he walked. He probably should have waited for one of the other Wreckers, who could hold their high grade better to help him find the ship, but he didn’t want to deny any of his fellow Wreckers the odd pleasure they found in a good bar fight. One was slowly brewing in the card game that Twin Twist and Scoop had gotten in on. It was the main reason why Perceptor had felt the need to leave. Besides, he was beginning to feel just a slight bit out of it.

He gave a content purr to himself when he came around a corner and spotted the Trion sitting contently at her dock. He staggered down the boarding tube and entered the decon hatch waiting patiently as he leaned against the bulkhead for the ship’s security systems to confirmed his energy signature and permitted him access. He didn’t realize that it took this long for a couple of simple scans so he stood up, stepping away from the wall. It was possible that the bulkhead was somehow interfering with the scans. That, however, took more energy than he had counted on and he expelled an exhaust as he staggered back into the wall for support.

He really needed to work on his high grade tolerance levels.

However, he couldn’t complain. As he was finally allowed access into the ship and began to stagger towards his quarters, Perceptor vaguely knew that this was worth it. He wasn’t worried about the war, what they were going to face in the next skirmish, how close he was going to come to losing one of his comrades. He was just existing in the moment of here and now. There was just him, with no worries or responsibilities vying for his attention. There were no project deadlines to worry about. There were no time crunches to race against. He was relaxed, all the burdens pulled off his shoulders and processors. He could just be.

He could be himself.

That was why he went and got over charged occasionally. It was like a spring, be tightened more and more, as the pressure of his post and the obligations that he had begun to stack up. He was weak. He couldn’t stand the constant pressure and responsibility. He needed a chance to reset himself and only high grade was able to fill that. He hated the following morning every time, when he would be ashamed that he need such a temporary fix to help him forget, only to find everything he had run from was still waiting for him to start a new day. High grade never fixed anything but it let him forget everything for one night. It wasn’t much but it was better than nothing. He staggered around a corner as he thought about this and straight into another mech. 

They audibly clanged together and Perceptor felt himself falling backwards as overcharged gyros attempted to compensate from his sudden uncoordinated movement. He wobbled and would have fallen but the mech he had stumbled against darted forward and caught him. The other’s arms wrapped underneath either of his shoulders and tipped him forward into the other mech’s chassis. His peds scrambled for purchase and he unintentionally pushed the other mech backwards. With a soft grunt the mech twisted to one side, still pulling Perceptor along, and his shoulders clanged against the wall with Percepotr’s weight leaning against him.

“Ow…” Perceptor mumbled after a moment of just hanging there, trying to recall everything that had just happened way too fast for his processor to manage. He shifted in the grip of the other mech feeling dazed as the room slowly spun around him. That was new. His weight was hanging on the other mech’s arms as he rubbed his face against the white shoulder armor it was pressed against. “Thanks Drift,” he mumbled knowing that there was only one mech in the entire crew with white armor. He turned to face the other mech he was leaning against. “That would’ve hurt…”

“Falling on the floor or bouncing off the wall then falling on the floor?” the swordmech said teasingly before giving him a sad smile. “Everything alright?”

“No,” Perceptor mumbled before realizing what he had said. He realized it a fraction of a second latter and tried to pull away from Drift, his peds doing everything but cooperating with his endeavor. “I mean yes. I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine,” Drift said barely having to actually restrain the mech leaning against him. “How much did you drink?”

That got Perceptor to pause in his attempts to stand on his own and he hung limply in Drift’s grip again as he tried to remember. “I’m… not sure.” He had a cube of high grade with Roadbuster and another with Top Spin. He was pretty sure he had a couple of shots with Hot Rod and maybe a one of those bubbly mixed concoctions that Sandstorm loved so much. “It couldn’t have been too many,” he waved a limp hand in dismissal.

“You can barely stand and you smell like you swam through a vat of high grade,” Drift said with a teasing glint on the edges of that sad look. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“None of your concern,” Perceptor said as he finally managed to get his peds back under him and he stood up. He pushed against the wall behind Drift’s shoulder to hold himself steady as he peeled himself out of the other mech’s grip. He felt Drift hesitate for a moment before letting him go. “I’ll be fine.”

“Actually, I think it is my concern,” Drift said as Perceptor turned away and took several tentative steps down the hall, keeping his one hand on the wall just in case the floor decided to move out from under him again. “You only overcharge yourself like this after you make a serious mistake or you feel as though you’ve failed at something. Are you using highgrade as a stress relief or a way to relax and unwind?” Perceptor stumbled to a halt. In only one guess Drift had figured out the whole reason for his occasional binges. 

He glanced over his shoulder at the swordmech, taking a step closer to the wall to support himself better, “And I assume you know a better way to relax?”

“I know several,” Drift replied ignoring the subtle anger in Perceptor’s voice. “Some of which are much more effective than others.”

Perceptor waited a klick before turning around to face the other mech. He was leaning heavily against the wall as he stared him down, trying to gauge his sincerity. “How?” he finally asked.

Drift crossed his arms as he looked over Perceptor. “You’re way seems to be working well for you, why do you want to change it?”

Preceptor pressed his lips into a thin line knowing that Drift was trying to see if he wanted to change rather than force him too. In a way it fit with his personality, being forceful but still allowing others their own choice. In the back of his processor he knew he was lucky. Had he ran into any other Wrecker he probably would have been brushed off as overcharged off his rocker. If he was lucky, the other Wreaker might help him to his room but the last time that had happened he woken up in a locked supply locker. At least he gave Roadbuster thanks for trying. He had meant well. Of course, most of the other Wreckers were still getting intoxicated or were over charged into shut down by now. As far as he knew, Drift had almost never drank since coming onboard. Ever. Knowing that Drift was still sober and willing to help was somewhat of a comfort.

“This is only a temporary fix,” he finally sighed. “And I don’t like forgetting about my problem, even for just a night.”

Drift nodded his helmet like he was expecting that answer, a small smile spreading across his faceplates as he dropped his crossed arms and walking up to stand in front of him. “As I said there are several ways I know of to relax. I already know that several options aren’t open to us.” He nodded to Perceptor chassis. “You’re overcharged enough that you can barely function.” His smile wilted slightly as he spoke again, “And I really don’t feel right showing you the last option as drunk as you are either.”

“Are you saying you can’t show me now?” Perceptor was a bit miffed at that. All this build up for nothing? He was at least expecting to have his options laid out for him. 

“I just don’t want you to take it wrong at the start of the next shift Perceptor,” Drift took a step back and gestured down the hall. “Come on, I promise. Next time you get worked up and need to relax and de-stress, come to my quarters and I’ll explain everything to you. For right now, I’ll help you get to your room and into your berth.”

Perceptor tilted his helmet to one side as he analyzed Drift’s words. His processor was working much more slowly than normal but it finally came to a single conclusion. Interfacing did remove stress and he knew of several relationship were stress relief was the only driving force keeping the mechs together in a quasi-relationship. Springer and Blurr immediately popped up in his cortex. He shifted himself around so that the back of his shoulders made contact with the wall behind him and he slid down slightly so it was easier to brace himself there. “You wish to seek my consent before interfacing with me?” he asked slowly.

Drift shuttered his optics before nodding his helmet. “Can’t get much past you even when you’re barely working at half capacity,” he said with a rueful shake of his head. “Yes, interfacing is one of the options but you’re too out of it, Perceptor. I won’t feel comfortable doing it with you now. It’s too much like taking advantage of you. Now, come on. Let’s get you lying down,” he reached over and lightly took Perceptor’s arm.

Maybe it was the open admittance or the fact no one had even shown a cursory interest in him outside of his usefulness or maybe he really was just really drunk. Perceptor couldn’t help but gape at the other mech. “You’d offer to interface with me?” he said in awe. He was never one for relationships. No one ever seemed to be interested in him, going for flashier mechs than himself. He had experimented way back in his youth but none of those relationships had lasted very long or were very satisfying.

That thing he and Brainstorm had been in was at the top of that list.

Drift frowned, “What’s wrong?” His processor had seemed to have locked up, going around and around in circles over the thought that Drift -beautiful, caring, exotic looking Drift- had just offered to interface with him. Not Blurr, or Springer, or Blaster, or even Topsin but him. Plain old awkward him. “Percy, are you okay?” A hand touched his face and Perceptor realized that he was crying. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried. A whimper escaped him and he felt the tension in his knees release. If Drift hadn’t surged forward and wrapped his arms around his middle, Perceptor knew he would have ended up on the floor. “Perceptor?”

Perceptor whimpered again as he hands loosely clutched at the plating on Drift’s chest. “Please don’t leave me,” he whimpered. “Stay. Please. Don’t go.” A sob broke free from him then and he trembled in the arms holding him. 

“I won’t Perceptor. It’s okay, you’re alright.” Drift shifted his grip around on him and the next thing Perceptor knew, he was floating down the hall. The only stable thing in his universe was Drift cradling him to his chest. He buried another sob into Drift’s chest armor, whimpering another plead for Drift to stay with him.

Lips gently brushed his helmet, “I’m not going anywhere, Perceptor.”  


\-----

Perceptor’s optics didn’t want to reboot at all as he slowly came back on line. He whimpered as he shifted slightly, recognizing the soft feel of a berth beneath him and the unfamiliar feeling of lying against someone. What had happened last cycle? Panic momentarily griped him as he tried to remember what on Cybertron had happened only for grainy disoriented images to be replayed in his processor. He knew that he had at least managed to get back to the Trion and ran into someone who offered to interface with him? Had he really taken that mech up on that offer?

Who was that mech anyways?

The arm that was draped over his middle suddenly gave him a gentle squeeze as whoever he was sharing a berth with moved against his back. He was laying mostly on his front, one arm partially pinned under him while the other was laying limply on the berth in front of him. The need to get away from this mech before he woke up caused his exhausted and over taxed systems to strain even more as he struggled to get moving. He still couldn’t get his optics to reboot.

“Perceptor?” came a familiar recharge laden vocalizer that crackled slightly. “Are you awake?”

Oh Primus, Drift.

He had interfaced with one mech on the ship he could truly call a close friend.

His engine gave a pathetic little whining sound as he felt tears of coolant build up behind his optics. Drift shifted against his back, sitting up more as the arm around his waist tightened into a one armed hug. “Hey, it’s okay,” Drift said sounding more awake now. “Take your time booting back up. You can’t be feeling good after last night.”

Drift was right, Perceptor felt horrible. The overcharge from the highgrade was gone, leaving behind a deep ache that centered on his tank and radiated out from there. All his lines were over stressed and his wiring all but itched from the excessive charge they had been forced to carry for such a long period of time. Adding that to the fact that he had ‘faced with his best friend and Perceptor just wanted a hole to appear under him and be jettisoned out into space. At least there he could curl up in his own misery by himself instead of laying here with Drift.

“Take it easy Percy,” Drift said. Some more shifting along his back and Drift’s other hand began stroking along the back of his helmet in an effort to comfort him. It only made Perceptor feel worst.

“Drift,” he practically moaned. Drift tried to shush him but Perceptor merely shook his head as he pressed on, “I’m sorry. I am so sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

“Hey, hey, calm down,” Drift said, twisting his arm around enough to cover his mouth. “What are you going on about?”

The hand slid down from his mouth, moving to lightly cup his cheek. It was almost too much. The tears threatening to escape at any moment, “I didn’t mean to interface with you.”

“Hold the comm line,” Drift stated, voice rising above the half whisper he had been speaking in and causing Perceptor to cringe as his audio setting fluctuated more rapidly than his processor was ready to interrupt. “Percy,” His voice warbled slightly as he brought it back down to what he had been talking in having noticed Perceptor’s wince. “We didn’t interface last night.”

Perceptor frowned, “But you offered.”

“Later,” Drift stressed, easing Perceptor over onto his back. Even that simple movement caused his equilibrium chip to glitch and all but crash on him. “I didn’t want you to feel taken advantage of. I agreed to help you unwind and de-stress the next time it became too much for you so you wouldn’t go out drinking so much again. You asked if that included interfacing, I said yes, and then you begged me not to leave you alone.” 

“Really,” he asked as Drift wrapped an arm around his shoulders and slid his thigh up and over Perecptor’s, tucking the back of his ped behind Perceptor’s knee. It was… comforting being held like that. Almost but not quiet intimate. Safe. “Trust me,” his free hand took one of Perceptor’s and his tangled their fingers together. “I was completely sober.”

Which Perceptor definitely hadn’t been at all. 

He allowed himself to relax back onto the berth, his engine idling with only an occasional hitch from the residual over charge. His emotions were no longer bouncing around erratically and he felt at ease. Drift didn’t use the phrase ‘trust me’ idly, he was being sincere. Still, there was a thread of doubt in his processor, and it took him a moment to gather his courage enough to voice it. “You really will help me?” 

Drift didn’t answer him, at least not verbally. The slight shifting of his chassis against Perceptor’s and the faint puff of an exhaust against his cheek was his only warning as Drift’s lips gently covered his own. They stayed frozen like that for a moment, Perceptor’s systems half stalling in response, before Drift tentatively moving his lips. They moved gently over his, warm and soft, unlike anything Perceptor had ever felt before. It was in that moment, as a glossa gently lapped across his lower lip before Drift took his bottom lip between his own and ran his glossa over it again, that Perceptor realized he had never really been kissed before. At least nothing like this. He whimpered as Drift let go and moved his head back away from Perceptor. 

He didn’t want it to end so suddenly, he surged up, bumping his lips rather forcefully against Drift who huffed slightly in surprise. He moved his lips over Drift in a clumsy comparison to what he had just recieved. He felt a smile before the lips moved against his again, soft and coaxing. He shivered.

Drift broke the kiss, “Get some more rest. Work that stuff out of your system. I’ll stay right here and keep an optic on you.”

Odd. Drift usually offered to take duty after a night in port to give everyone the chance to recover. Yet, as the white warrior settled against him, it was apparent he was planning on going anywhere. “Don’t you have duty?”

An amused snort came from him, “I would if Springer wasn’t on the bridge trying to get a pardon for most of the team through Command. There was apparently a brawl with some of the local Enforcers at the bar and our guys got caught up in it.”

Perceptor was glad he left the bar when he did. Still it was odd that it was Springer trying to get a pardon. “Shouldn’t Kup be doing that?” What if something had happened to the grizzled old warrior he helped get back in operational status? 

A chuckle was his response, “Don’t worry about him. Kup was apparently the one who threw the first punch. Guess he broke an Enforcer’s battle mask. Now rest, at the rate Springer is going, we’ll be here for a while.”

Perceptor relaxed back into the semi familiar hold, his exhausted systems easily slipping back into recharge.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes: Wow, I think this thing is actually trying to warp itself into a coherent story… 
> 
> Warnings: Heavy petting and EM play.

Perceptor was about halfway through his second cube of highgrade when he remembered Drift’s offer. 

It had been a rough past couple of weeks, going from one conflict to another with barely enough time to refuel, recharge and rearm in between missions.  For Perceptor, the work load was doubled as he spent time in his makeshift work shop, upgrading armaments, fixing weapons -occasionally rebuilding them completely- and creating new mods to help give them the edge in fighting.  Sometime it was just a little upgrade, like the modified muzzle on Scoop’s weapon that flatten the pulse out to cover a wider area.  It was perfect for combat in hallways where the pulse could almost go from wall to wall.  Other times, it was big, like Roadbuster’s old bazooka being retrofitted to use a new kind of ammunition.  That project made him miss an entire recharge cycle, not that he would admit it to anyone. 

Especially Drift.

Drift had taken it on himself to check on him when he was pulling the long hours in the lab.  Several times he didn’t even know exactly when the white warrior had come in.  One minute, he would be alone, intently working on whatever sat on his bench and the next time he happened to look up, Drift would be sitting on his stool or leaning against the wall or one time he was even perched on the edge of his workbench looking over his shoulder.  That had been the most disconcerting out of all of them.  Drift had been sitting not more than a hand span from him and he had never even seen him sit there. 

Drift had made him pick everything up with just a glare and then followed Perceptor all the way down to the rec room for a cube of energon before following him to his room.  The entire time Drift never said a thing, just stared at him, and Perceptor had found himself following his seemingly silent commands without even a second thought.  Perceptor had heard about processor over matter but had never believed it to be true until then.  Needless to say the next time Drift appeared in his lab, he had a cube of energon in one hand which he offered to Perceptor followed closely by the question, “When did you last recharge?”

 With all the running around and general craziness that followed them like a plague in battle, someone was bound to make a mistake.  That someone happened to be Springer.  Perceptor wasn’t actually sure on the details of what happened, he had been stationed on the other side of the battlefield at the time, but even his spark skipped a pulse at Sandstorm suddenly screaming over the comms, “Springer is down!  _Springer is down!!!”_   Out of all of them, Springer almost never bit off more than he could chew, he knew he own strengths and weakness so well that -while he still doubted himself leading others into combat- he never doubted his own abilities or did something stupid.

 Like getting into a fist fight with Motormaster.

He would recover, Perceptor had personally seen to that.  Springer had been airlifted from the field and taken straight to the jump point where Perceptor met him and together they were beamed straight to the Trion’s medbay.  It had been a struggle, even with the regenerative powers of a CR tank, Perceptor had to manually install and rebuilt parts of Springer immediately.  Added to the fact that -while he was trained as a medic grade level three- his primary function was not as a medical tech, he was a scientist.  He wasn’t designed for the high stress environments, he didn’t have the correct sets of micro tools folded up inside his hands, and he didn’t have the capability to uplink with Springer to adjust his power levels and subroutines to help repair him.  He had to do that through a computer.  It was one thing he found himself hating at times like these.  Why was he designed as a scientist?  However, he managed.  The overall surgery took almost a full day cycle before Perceptor was even able to put Springer in the CR tank.  He reported the good news to Kup who congratulated him and told him to get some rest. 

And that was how he had ended up here, almost in the middle of third shift, sitting alone in the rec room pounding down highgrade. 

He wasn’t really sure what had made him think of Drift’s offer.  He went through the first cube so fast that he had to double check that he had actually poured the first one.  He had been just staring off into space, not really thinking of anything when he remembered what Drift had offered.  He stared down at his half a cube, the after taste of the mouthful he had just taken becoming almost sour.  He really didn’t want to get drunk.  Hesitantly, he ping Drift to find out if he could take him up on that only to close the line as he realized what time it was.  Drift was probably sleeping.

He knocked back the rest of the cube without really thinking.  No, Drift needed his rest.  He knew that this would work.  One more time wouldn’t hurt.  He got himself another cube and stared into it for a moment before taking a sip.  If only all his problems would float away as easily. 

He was halfway through his four cube, taking a deep draught, when the gentle lick of another’s EM field pressed along his.  He stiffened as an arm slid around his shoulders and Drift settled into the seat next to him.  The swordmech’s face was blank but open.  There was no sad or reprimanding look on his face which Perceptor was glad for.  He already could feel guilt curling in his tank, he couldn’t imagine how bad it would have been if Drift had been upset with him.  “I didn’t mean to wake you,” Perceptor said softly as he set the cube back down, trying unsuccessfully to lean out of Drift’s embrace, as if his presence would somehow taint Drift‘s purity. 

Drift didn’t let go, if anything pulled him closer, “I don’t mind.  I never said anything about a time.”  There was a ping against his communication array, a quick burst data transfer from Drift that he accepted without any hesitation.  What came through was a four digit door code.  “Whenever you need help, just come in.”

Perceptor nodded, still trying to avoid actually looking at Drift.  He found himself looking back down into his cube and winced.  He should have just gone to his room and tried to rest instead of coming down to the rec room in the first place.  He nodded his head to Drift, unable to say anything, and then sent a quick burst back with his own four digit door code.  It was the least he could do to show Drift how much his trust and friendship meant.

Drift’s hand tightened slightly as he shifted closer to Perceptor’s side.  “Drink the rest of your highgrade,” he whispered as his free hand came up to curl around the one Perceptor was using to hold his cube. 

Perceptor sighed and obediently brought the cube back to his lips components, intend on just snapping it back as if that would get rid of the guilt he felt.  However, Drift’s hand tightened slightly on his as he prevented Perceptor from downing the rest of the cube.  “Slowly Perceptor,” he whispered as he forced Perceptor to sip at the cube.  “Drink it slowly.”

Perceptor tried to pull the cube away from his lips, intent on asking Drift why he was making him drinking something he was attempting to curb his habit of, only to have his vents hitch as Drift pressed his face into the cabling of his neck, gently nuzzling it.  Perceptor stopped in taking fluids, going still as a gentle purr escaped the mech next to him.  Drift nuzzled his neck slowly and Perceptor couldn’t help but tremble at the feeling, his core temperature slowly rising.  A glossa flicked over several of his lines making him jump slightly, only Drift’s grip keeping him from leaping from his seat. 

“Finish your highgrade,” Drift said before nuzzling his neck again.  “Slowly.”

Drift pressed his whole body up along Perceptor’s side causing Perceptor to realize that he was trembling slightly.  He dutifully drank his highgrade slowly as Drift continued to purr, nuzzle and lick gently at his neck.  His core temperature continued to increase from what Drift was doing as well at what his actions were hinting at.  He felt a stab of guilt when he realized that he had thought that Drift had been lying to him all along.

When the cube was drained, Drift finally allowed him to lower it, sitting it lightly on the table.  Perceptor jolted at the light nip on an energon line in his neck.  “Come on,” Drift whispered in a low voice that caused his core to jump drastically higher and his senor net tingle.  “Let’s go.”

Drift didn’t need to hold his hand to lead him from the rec room to his personal quarters.  They were walking close enough that Drift’s EM field was lightly pulsing against his, seemingly drawing him on as Perceptor kept in step just to feel more of that lovely warmth.  There was a faint hint of anticipation that was no doubt being echoed in his own field, but it was the constant soothing feeling of safety and trust that lead him.

Drift pressed the door code that he now knew into the control pad quickly before glancing over his shoulder and giving Perceptor what he would call a heated gaze.  Despite himself, his engine revved, and he caught the quick smirk that played across Drift’s face as he entered the room.  Perceptor didn’t hesitate to follow, stepping into a room that few other Wreckers had even entered since Drift had claimed it as his quarters.

Whatever Perceptor had been expecting Drift’s room to look like, it certainly wasn’t this.  He didn’t know when or where Drift had acquired what he had but it was obvious that when most Wreckers –including himself- went and spent their pay on drinking, Drift had gone shopping in the markets.   He had to have left after everyone else because Percepotr couldn’t ever recall Drift leaving the ship with them after they had docked.

Drift had somehow attached trails of fabric to the ceiling, covering it completely.  This included the ceiling light that was muted behind the light green fabric, lighting the room with a soft green glow instead of the normal harsh white light.  The fabric trailed down to fall naturally in the corners of the room, helping to soften the stark steel walls drastically.  The berth that went from wall to wall had been covered with an assortment of pillows that made it appear to be more like a couch than an actual berth.  A folded up bunch of fabric lay at one end and Perceptor wondered what it was for. 

The only other piece of furniture in the room was what appeared to be a desk but it only came up to about his knee.  Several datapads were stacked neatly on it and some form of twisted organic growth sat along the back being bathed in the bright light of a small desk lamp.  There was a mat of woven and braided plant fibers in front of the desk instead of a chair.  Tucked back under the desk were a pair of small decorated wooden crates, one of which Drift was pulling out and opening.

“Go ahead and get in the berth,” Drift said as he unclipped the latch on the box he had pulled out.  “Make yourself comfortable.”

Drift was still speaking in that low voice that had enflamed his sensor net before and it was no different now.  Perceptor nodded and stepped over to the berth, hesitating for a moment before crawling onto it, trying not to disturb the mounds of pillows.  He leaned against them, expecting them to be similar to the rather stiff ones decorating the couches in the rec room, only to find himself sinking into them.  The fabric that covered them was soft against his plating, activating sensory nodes as he slid down against them.  A sigh escaped him as he shivered but not from the cold or a glitch in his thermostat.  The touch felt exquisitely wonderful.

A chuckle drew his attention back to Drift who had put the box away and was stepping over to the berth cradling several small, paper wrapped object in one hand.  “I guess you like my pillows?” he asked amused.

Perceptor shifted uneasily, feeling suddenly self-conscious of his enjoyment.  “I have never felt a fabric such as this,” he admitted as Drift settled next to him, leaning back so that he was leaning against Perceptor’s thighs.  “In fact, I have never seen a room decorated like this.”

“Yeah,” Drift said looking around the room with a melancholy look on his face.  “It is quite unique.  You know I used to go by Deadlock?”

Perceptor knew Drift had once been a Decepticon but he hadn’t realized that he had been Deadlock.  Deadlock was a dangerous and noteworthy enough foe that even he had heard of him on Kimia. 

His surprise must have been noticeable enough for Drift to catch.  “Yeah, I was him,” his eyes dimmed for a moment before brightening again and he continued, “Anyway, the group of cybertronians that took care of me and helped me see that I had been turned to go down the wrong path, they decorate their berth rooms like this.”  He gave a wiry shrug, “When I saw the room for the first time, it just seemed natural to decorate like this.”

Perceptor knew there was more behind that statement but he also knew well enough that if he tried to find out more Drift would close up.  He might even throw Perceptor out and that thought made him not press any further.  Drift was looking intently about the room, a small sad smile on his face.  It seemed wrong for him to look so sad.  Perceptor’s optics landed on the small paper wrapped objects in Drift hand and he gently reached over and stroked his fingertips down the length of Drift’s upper arm, bring his attention back to Perceptor.  “What are those?” he asked, unsure if his distraction was welcomed. 

Drift’s optics shuttered in surprise, looking first at the hand Perceptor hastily snatched away from his arm and then to the wrapped objects as if trying to remember where he was for a moment.  A much warmer smile seemed to bloom over his face as he reached his free hand for Perceptor’s, putting it on his shoulder as he leaned down over Perceptor slightly.  “These are energon jellies.”

Perceptor tentatively run his hand over Drift’s shoulder unsure for a moment if it was really allowed for him to be touching Drift for some reason he couldn’t explain.  “Energon jellies?” he had never heard about those before.

Drift smiled at him and his EM field was filled with an almost knowing mirth.  “Not many have.  They’re weren‘t developed by Cybertronians.  Several other races out there have developed candies and sweets based on energon.”

“Oh,” Drift was unwrapping one and while it did look like a solid e-ration, it was elastic.  It moved, contracting and expanding as Drift fingers squeezed it.  It was… a disturbing sight to say the least.  Energon came either solid or in a liquid form, it couldn’t enter any of the other stages or sub-stage of matter.  Yet here was the proof right in front of him.  He wondered how it was able to maintain its form.

“No clue, but it tastes delicious,” Perceptor hadn’t even realized he had spoken out loud and the mirth expanded in Drift’s field as his own field displayed his embarrassment.  “Here,” Drift said offering him the piece he had just unwrapped.  “Try it.”

Drift brought it up to his lips and Perceptor found himself shrinking away from it, trying to focus his optical units on it.  He was thwarted in his attempts to evade the jelly by pillows.  Drift chuckled at him, “It’s not going to bite you, Perce.  Just try it.”

Perceptor’s optics flickered from Drift and then back to the energon jelly being held near his lips.  Slowly, he opened his mouth and -feeling a little foolish- took the jelly from Drift’s fingers.  Drift’s optics seemed to smolder when his lips lightly touched his fingertips.  Trying to ignore the way his tank seemed to flip and his temperature spike anew at that look, Perceptor focused on the taste of the jelly now in his mouth.

It was nothing like energon and yet it was.  It seemed to disintegrate in his mouth, filling it was a heady sweetness unlike anything he had ever tasted before.  It was sweeter than highgrade yet still had the zing that normal energon had.  He licked his lips, meeting Drift optics which he realized were following his glossa as it tracked across it.  He was suddenly hyper aware of the swordmech pressed against his side, leaning over him, watching him with optics that almost seemed to burn into his.  He realized his ventilations had picked up.  “That was interesting,” he said in a wavering voice that was more of a whisper.

“Have another,” Drift said in a husky voice as he pressed another jelly against his lips.  Perceptor took it, making sure to touch his lips against Drift’s fingers this time, watching his reaction.  Drift optics brightened even more and there was definitely a pulse of arousal in his EM field.  He didn’t taste the jelly this time. 

Drift purred and offered him another jelly.  “Don’t you want it?” Perceptor asked, realizing he had eaten all of them so far.

Drift smiled, he field now all but buzzing with arousal, “Good idea.”

He took the jelly back and popped it in his own mouth but leaned down the rest of the distance to press his mouth against Perceptor’s.  Perceptor jolted, not expecting a kiss so soon, and his mouth opened as Drift ran his glossa over his lips.  He could taste the jelly and he could taste Drift.  It was a heady combination and Perceptor moaned into the kiss, the hand that was still sitting on Drift’s shoulder tightened, pulling the white mech closer.

Drift was more than happy to comply, moving to lie down on top of Perceptor, twisting his hips around to push Perceptor’s thighs apart.  Drift’s hands came up to cup Perceptor’s face as the kiss continued.  Drift was relentless as his glossa explored the contours of Perceptor’s mouth, which earned him a moan from the sniper.

Drift’s EM field pulsed against Perceptor’s, the moan obviously arousing him even more.  A light growl escaped him as one hand slid from Perceptor’s neck and chassis, leaving a trail of fire down to Perceptor’s pelvic span where it began flirting about, dipping into seams and fluttering over plating.  His other hand dragged over to the scope mounted on Perceptor’s shoulder.  It ran up then down the shaft, moving to trace along the mounts that fixed the scope to his shoulder.  It was all too much, too fast.  Perceptor whimpered.  Fear leaking briefly into his EM field even though he tried to suppress it.  He didn’t want Drift to stop.

However, Drift stopped as soon as he felt the fear nudge against his field.  He softened the kiss, slowly drawing his hands from where they had been to rest against the reinforced breastplate.  “Drift,” Perceptor whined as Drift pulled away.  “Don’t stop.”

Drift nuzzled Perceptor’s helmet, “You’re scared.  I’m going too fast for you.”

“Drift,” he felt cheated somehow.  This was the second time Drift had pulled away, insecurity coiling in his tank.  Maybe Drift had been lying about interfacing with him. 

“Hush,” Drift whispered mouthing the ridge that ran long Perceptor’s brow.  “We’ll go slow.”

“I don’t want you to go slow,” Perceptor suddenly snapped, jerking his head away from the comforting feeling.  “Just take me!”

Drift shifted above him, pulling further away, his face taking on a harden look.  Perceptor was suddenly afraid that Drift was going to throw him out.  What right did he have to make such a demand from Drift?  Telling Drift to just take him?  He shrank away from Drift, the slide of the pillows over his plating anything but comforting or pleasurable. 

Drift was staring at him, watching his reaction, and the hard look softened as he sighed and settled back against Perceptor.  “No, I won’t just take you,” he kissed Perceptor’s cheek, nuzzling the sniper’s face affectionately.  “There’s more to interfacing then just doing anything.  We will go slow,” he said with such convection that Perceptor knew there was nothing he could say to convince Drift otherwise. 

He still felt cheated.

Drift smiled, kissing at the small frown on Perceptor’s face.  “There are other things we can do that are just as pleasurable and will help you to relax.” 

Perceptor’s frown deepened as he tried to puzzle out what Drift meant by that.  He gave up after another kiss to his cheek, “What-”

Drift didn’t let him finish, darting forward and taking full advantage of Perceptor’s open mouth.  His glossa tangled with Perceptor’s as one hand tentatively trailed back to his scope, the other sliding behind Perceptor’s helmet.  His fingers began to trace the transform seams that ran along Perceptor’s shoulder as deepen the kiss until a moan escaped the sniper beneath him. 

Perceptor wasn’t expecting the sudden pulse that ran through his frame.

He gasped, throwing his head back and breaking the kiss as his chassis arched up against Drift.  His processor felt scrambled as Drift to the opportunity to kiss and nip at his neck cables.  Drift suddenly shifted raising higher up onto his knees and pulling Perceptor down the berth to lay under him more.  The slide of his plating on the pillows sent sparks against his sensor net. 

Drift growled against his neck as his hands went to the seams on Perceptor’s sides, digging into them.  Perceptor brought his hands up to cultch at Drift’s shoulders as he leaned his helmet back even more, exposing his throat.  Another pulse raced from Drift’s EM field and into his own causing him to shiver.  Drift purred against his throat, tilting his head enough to run his glossa along the red plating on Perceptor’s scope. 

That wrung another gasp from Perceptor.  He felt like all his processers where shutting down on him.  He knew he had to reciprocate somehow, it wasn’t fair for him to just lay there and let Drift do those wonderful things with his lips, glossa and fingers kept driving his pleasure higher.  He slid his hands over the flare of Drift’s shoulders and pulled him down enough so the he could reach Drift’s neck with his mouth.  He mimicked what Drift had done to him early, earning a shiver and moan from the mech above.

Another pulse slammed into his field and rushed through his circuits.  His vents hitched and he faltered in what he was doing.  He tried to steady himself only to cry out as Drift glossa traced the ridge of his lens.  “Unfair,” he whispered as the mech did it again, combining it with another pulse that had Perceptor collapsing onto the berth, panting.  He gathered himself enough to send his own pulse into the mech over his, earning him a shiver and growl.

He could tell he was a lot closer than Drift was.  “Drift,” he said jerking as the mech nipped at his lens.  “Drift,” he should be doing something besides laying there with his spark pulse wildly as his engine raced.  He couldn’t even tell if Drift was enjoying this, “Drift.”  A sudden pulse raced from Drift into him and he forced himself through shear will alone not to overload as he tried to pull himself together enough to rev up Drift somehow.

A nip to his lens, another pulse and the slide of Drift’s thigh over his interface hatch threw all his thoughts out of the nearest airlock.

“DRIFT!” he cried as his body jerked against Drift’s in one of the most intense overloads he had experienced in a long time.  Another pulse suddenly slammed into him followed quickly by a third and Perceptor writhed against the hard plating above him and the soft pillows below.  The combination and variation in texture’s causing him to experience another, slightly smaller overload.

He collapsed back to the berth, vents whirling as his chassis heaved.  Drift settled against him, his own vents whirling.  Perceptor tried to lift his head but found his helmet too heavy.  “Rest,” Drift said, his voice tinted with static. 

However, Perceptor needed to know, “Did you?”

A chuckle as Drift leaned up enough to kiss Perceptor on the chin, “With the amount of energy you were throwing off?  Of course.”

“Missed it,” Perceptor said fighting against recharge, unsure of why that was suddenly so important to him. 

“There will be other times,” Drift whispered against his lips before giving him a soft kiss.  “Now rest.”

He didn’t remember falling into recharge and it seemed like barely a nanoklik before he was onlining his optics again.  He felt groggy and warm.  The fabric that had been lying folded on the berth was now draped over him, holding his engine heat against him.  He rolled his head off to the side to look across the small room, searching for Drift.  The white mech was sitting on his knees before the desk working on something that Perceptor couldn’t see.  “Drift?” he said after a moment of just enjoying the warmth, softness and silence he was wrapped in.

The mech turned and looked over his shoulder, a smile growing on his face when he noticed Perceptor’s onlined optics.  “I see you’re online,” he set a data pad off to the side.  “I guess I don’t need to write you a note anymore.”  He rose and stepped over to the berth, settling a knee next to Perceptor’s hip as he leaned over him and pressed a light kiss against his lips.  “How do you feel,” he asked once he had pulled away.

“Tired,” which was true.  He felt like he had been run over by Roadbuster, who then had backed up to see if he was alright, accidently running over him again.  “What time is it,” he didn’t want to get up.  He was perfectly comfortable where he was.  The satiny pillows were cradling him softly and seemed to be holding him prone.  He felt like he could lay there forever.

“Relax,” Drift said nuzzling his helmet.  “You’re not on duty for another two shifts.”  A light kiss was pressed to his cheek, “I on the other hand have to get going.  I’m on in less than a breem.  Rest here as long as you want.”

He started to pull away and Perceptor found the energy to catch his hand and pull him back down into a brief kiss.  “Thank you,” he said.  It felt empty to him, he owed Drift more than just a small thank you.  He kissed the warrior again as he tried to figure out what he could do to make it up to Drift.

Drift broke the kiss as he gently pulled away from Perceptor.   “Get some more rest,” he said his voice soft and affectionate as he pulled the fabric up to Perceptor’s chin.  A hand lightly traced along his jaw and Perceptor felt his optics dim almost against his will.  He only knew Drift had left because he heard the door close behind him.

And then there was nothing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I took some liberties (okay a lot) with how berth rooms were designed in New Crystal City and I know someone is bring this up. The thing for me is that the Drift miniseries never actually shows a berth room but its heavily hinted in canon that Drift is the Cybertronian version of Japanese. Since I see alien Japanese and earth Japanese as similar but different, I added in pieces of bedroom designs from several other Asian countries for Drift's personal quarters.
> 
> As for Perceptor being the team's medic, I really don't think that is canon as much as it is fan based but it kind of makes sense. However, I see Percy having a hard time dealing with the high stress environments because in labs you're suppose to patient, methodical and accurate which you don't get in an ER situation at all. It's all a mad rush to save someone's life. It goes against his base programming so while I see him able to act as a combat medic I think it would be highly stressful for him to be the primary surgeon in an emergency surgery.


End file.
